


The Devil You Know

by mousecookie



Category: Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco is a demon, Harry is a Hunter, M/M, SPN crew are side characters in this, cupcakes are baked, hearts are staked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousecookie/pseuds/mousecookie
Summary: “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus-” Harry began, but ghostly pressure around his throat cut off his words.“Ah-ah, none of that.” The demon narrowed his obsidian eyes. “Any Latin and you don’t get to breathe.”
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> This Harrisco story is set ambiguously within the Supernatural verse, on purpose, because I didn't want to keep track of a bazillion seasons (bless you SPN) and I was mostly interested in the conceptual backdrop. Accordingly, you don't need to be overly familiar with the show to read this. I hope.

The Comfort Motel, despite its name, did not exude an impression of comfort or care. There was a tang of neglect in the peeling paint of the exterior and the stained vinyl curtains hanging in every window. The vacancy sign out front had lost one of its ‘A’ tiles, leaving it to half-heartedly declare ‘ _VAC NCY’_.

The 1968 Ford Gran Torino parked in the tiny lot did not look like it belonged there. This was not because of any mystical allure of classic cars, or because it was pristine (as it was not). It was because, in contrast to the decrepit motel, the vehicle looked painstakingly cared for. The dirt from the road on the lower half of the sleek black chassis was clearly a new layer on surfaces routinely kept clean. There were signs of careful repair in the interior. And if one of the hubcaps was ever so slightly different than the other three, well, it was only slightly, and all their nooks and crannies were free of grime. It was clearly a car much beloved.

Any casual passers-by admiring the Torino might be alarmed to know that the trunk held a veritable arsenal of weapons. There were rifles and handguns, blades of different metals, and some things that really should not have been considered weapons at all - salt, bones of animals, and jars of herbs and blood. None of these weapons were intended for enemies of a human nature.

The owners of this remarkable vehicle and its remarkable contents were currently occupying room number 8. Though described as a “suite”, the name held as much truth as that of the Comfort Motel itself. There were two narrow twin beds and a battered nightstand between them. The faucet in the bathroom dripped continuously, and there was a pervasive smell of mildew that could not be masked by cheap lemon-scented cleaning products.

“We are not using you as bait,” Harry Wells said firmly, glaring at his teenage daughter as he sorted spare ammunition on the threadbare duvet of one of the beds. 

“This cult is sacrificing girls like me, possibly to a very real demon from Hell!” Jesse retorted from her seat on the other bed. “It makes the most sense for me to be bait! I’m a hunter, I can actually defend myself. And I learned from the best.” She gave him a meaningful look.

“I know I’m the best,” Harry replied, moving on to fill a small neon green water pistol from a squeeze bottle labeled ‘holy water’ with a piece of masking tape. “I’m still not going to let you get yourself sacrificed. Or eaten.”

“What, so you’re going to let them kill another innocent girl?” Jesse crossed her arms. Her own hunter’s kit lay spread out behind her, already restocked.

“No,” Harry said. “I’ll find another way.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse raised her eyebrows, all sass. “I’m listening.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I’ll think of something.”

“This is the best plan to find out where they are, and you know it.”

“I said _I’ll think of something_.”

\---

“So, what’s a girl gotta do to get sacrificed around here?” Jesse asked, cheerful as she sat handcuffed to a chair in the abandoned warehouse.

The two hooded cult acolytes in front of her exchanged confused looks. One of them called over to their leader, who was distinguishable from the others by the blood-red cloth draped over his shoulders like a graduation sash (and in fact, might have actually been a graduation sash that was flipped to the reverse side). 

“Hey! Steven! We got a weird one.” 

The cult leader threw his hands in the air. “For the last time, don’t use my mortal name! I’m the Black Death.”

The acolyte scratched the back of his head. “Uh… Black Death, we’ve got a weird one.”

The cult leader scowled. “Doesn’t exactly help _now_ , does it?” He turned to Jesse. “Thought you were kinda easy to abduct. You into the whole sacrifice gig, huh? Well don’t worry, we’ll serve you up fresh to the Dark Lord.”

Jesse wrinkled her nose. “Voldemort?”

“No!” said the man, exasperated. “A demon from Hell! A prince! He’s gaining strength, and soon he’ll be ready to unleash his wrath upon the world.”

“Oh!” Jesse replied, eyes wide. “How scary and serious!”

“Don’t mock us. You’ll see when He comes!”

Jesse rolled her eyes. “Okay, _Steven_.”

When the cult set about drawing the summoning circle with a bucket of pig’s blood, however, Jesse’s eyebrows began to rise.

“Oh,” she said, tone casual but very loud. “That looks like a _real_ demon summoning sigil right there. Very effective.” Jesse waited, but there was no sign of her dad, who was supposed to be hiding within earshot, ready to come bursting in from the wings. Maybe something had gone wrong? Well, she’d just have to do this the old-fashioned way. Jesse quietly dislocated her thumb to squeeze a hand out of the cuffs.

Steven looked at her. “Of course it’s real. And He will feast on your flesh, for the glory of darkness.” 

He turned and stood before the ornate pentagram on the floor. He chanted a summoning and the bloody lines blazed bright and a great shuddering force swept the room. Hands free, Jesse struggled to slip out of the ropes binding her to the chair. She needed to put a stop to this before they could finish summoning the demon.

But it was too late - a figure appeared in the center of the design. 

The demon had arrived.

As one, the cult members and Jesse tilted their heads sideways in confusion.

The thing in the middle of the summoning circle did not look demonic. His shape was young and handsome - that was to be expected - but he was wearing an apron and thick oven mitts, and was holding a baking tray of fresh cupcakes like he’d been interrupted in the middle of a challenge in the Great British Bake-Off. From Jesse’s angle, she could see the apron was emblazoned with a Star Trek logo and the words ' _Beam me up, chef!’_. 

He looked, quite frankly, as shocked as they did.

“You’re not the Dark Lord,” said Steven, finding his voice. 

“Yeah, no shit!” the demon groused. He took in the sight of the hooded acolytes, the blood sigils on the floor, and Jesse in her chair doing her best to pretend she was still tied up. “Ugh. Garden variety cult,” he deduced. “Release me, you assholes - my oven is left on at home! And open!” He shook the hot cupcake tray at them pointedly.

“Who drew the sigils this time?” Steven hissed at the group around him. One of the shorter acolytes sheepishly raised his hand, and Steven snapped, “You’re fired.”

“We can still sacrifice the girl, right?” Another of the acolytes said hopefully.

“No,” the demon interrupted irritably, “You don’t get to sacrifice the girl. You get to release me and go home.” A strand of dark hair came loose from his short, messy ponytail and fell across his face. He tried to puff it out of the way, unsuccessfully.

“...Is he even a demon?” Another acolyte asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” the young man snarled, his brown eyes bleeding to that horribly familiar, all-encompassing black that never failed to send chills down Jesse’s spine. She inhaled to begin the Latin exorcism she knew by heart.

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-_ ” she began. The demon’s black eyes snapped to her, giving her a thrill of fear. “ _Omnis satanica potestas-!_ ”

“Stop her!” Steven shrieked, and the nearest acolytes lunged at Jesse even as she slipped the last of her ropes to evade them.

Then Harry burst into the room, and everything became chaos.

Father and daughter wrangled the cult - Harry with brutal efficiency, and Jesse with speed and finesse. Her exorcism chant was interrupted several times, much to the relief of the demon who stood aloof and exasperated in the middle of it all, confined by the devil’s trap. He still held his cupcake tray in oven-mitted hands.

Finally the acolytes were on the floor, knocked out or wishing they had been. Harry began zip-tying all their hands together.

Jesse cracked her neck and began her exorcism again. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-”_

“There’s really no call for that,” the demon squawked, wincing.

“Tell that to the poor bastard whose body you stole,” Harry replied over Jesse’s chanting.

“I didn’t steal it! It’s mine!” Black smoke began to hover about the demon’s mouth, nose, and ears as the holy Latin took effect. “I’m the OG body owner right here!”

“ _Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum--_!” Jesse continued.

The demon shook and recoiled, resisting the impelling force. Sweat broke out on his warm brown skin. “It’s _my_ body,” he hissed, eyes black as molten tar, sinister and absurd as he still clutched the cupcake tray. The black smoke of his essence whorled and swirled but was not expelled.

Harry frowned at the lack of effect and joined Jesse’s chant. Their voices grew louder and more powerful, bringing the demon to his knees with a yelp. One of the cupcakes was jostled from its tin and fell to the floor.

In joining the exorcism, Harry had taken his attention off of the cult leader Steven, who was zip-tied at his feet. The cult leader wriggled like a caterpillar across the cement floor towards the summoning sigils and triumphantly smeared the line of the devil’s trap with his cheek. 

The circle was broken.

“You are free, my lord of darkness who is not the Dark Lord!” crowed Steven.

“Fucking finally,” the demon gasped from where he knelt on the floor, and was gone in the blink of an eye - oven mitts and all.

Harry growled in irritation and petulantly kicked the cult leader, who groaned. 

“That was odd,” Jesse said. She walked into the middle of the summoning circle and nudged the stray cupcake with her foot. It was still steaming faintly and smelled of vanilla and cardamom.

“They’re not usually that resilient,” Harry agreed.

“Or in the middle of baking cupcakes,” Jesse mused. She squashed the cupcake with her foot, expression thoughtful. Then she remembered something and glared at her father. “Why were you so late, anyway? They could have cut me open.”

“I got sidetracked,” Harry said, dialing the police from a burner phone. “I found the room where they were keeping all the scorched leftovers - it was under guard. Besides,” he nodded to where the handcuffs swung uselessly on one of her wrists. “It looks like you didn’t need my help.”

“True,” Jesse said, tossing her hair. She snapped a photo of the summoning circle. “So next time, don’t fight me when I say I should be the bait.”

“Not gonna be a next time,” Harry replied firmly. He waited until the 911 operator answered, and rattled off their location and the discovery of the murderous cult before flipping the phone shut and tossing it on the floor. “Come on, let’s go.” Jesse rolled her eyes and went.

\---

It was not the last time Harry and Jesse met what Jesse started referring to as ‘the Cupcake Demon.’

The next time was a few months later, in another small town in the Midwest where another small town cult was worshipping a demon. Harry and Jesse weren’t able to stop them before the ritual was complete.

This time, the Cupcake Demon was in pajamas.

There was, again, a sense of mutual surprise.

“Would you humans stop _summoning_ me,” the Cupcake Demon snapped, his dark hair mussed from sleep, his lips pouting. His wash-worn pajama shirt was emblazoned with a picture of Godzilla. His feet were bare. 

If not for his hellish black eyes, Harry thought distractedly, the demon’s cuddly dishevelment would have made for a very inviting image. Harry then carefully put aside this thought with the caution one might afford a bottle of nitroglycerin.

The Cupcake Demon examined the summoning circle around him. “I swear, it’s like having a phone number one digit away from a raging asshole with idiot friends.” He raised his eyebrows at the lack of salt or devil’s trap to confine his powers. “Mm. _Very_ idiot friends.”

With a sharp gesture he sent every human in the room flying backwards, tumbling to the floor or pinned to walls. 

The demon strolled up to where Harry was stuck against the side of the warehouse. “Why are you and the girl always around? Hunters, huh?”

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus-”_ Harry began, but ghostly pressure around his throat cut off his words.

“Ah-ah, none of that.” The demon narrowed his obsidian eyes. “Any Latin and you don’t get to breathe.”

“How were the cupcakes?” Jesse gasped from her rough landing in a pile of boxes. The demon swiveled around to look at her incredulously. The pressure on Harry’s neck eased away. 

“Delicious and one short of a dozen,” the demon retorted. 

“Yes, we’re hunters,” Harry jumped in when he could talk again, knowing Jesse was trying to draw the demon’s attention away, and resolute that he wouldn’t let it happen.

The demon slowly considered them both. “Father-daughter?” He guessed. Then he looked hard at Harry. Harry expected to feel talons digging into his mind, like every time a demon decided to figure out who he was, but there was nothing. 

“None of your damn business,” Harry gritted out.

“Mm, yeah, definitely some protective fatherly rage you’ve got going on there,” the demon smiled at him. It was a disturbingly genuine smile that made the apples of his cheeks stand out.

“Let us go and we won’t exorcise you,” Harry tried.

“Now that’s shenanigans,” the demon tutted. “You would, and you know it.”

“What did you mean that your body is yours?” Jesse piped up again, persistent in her efforts to distract the demon from her father.

“Exactly that,” the demon said simply. “It’s mine. I was born in it.”

“You possessed a fetus?” Harry asked.

“No,” snapped the demon. “It’s mine. I was born in it, a human like you. Became a demon later. Kept the ride.” He shook himself. “Anyway. Not important. You two seem like responsible types. Stop letting cults interrupt my daily life.” 

He pointed a finger at them both, and then he was gone, leaving Harry to drop to the floor along with the acolytes who had been similarly pinned.

“Weird,” Jesse said while Harry caught his breath and dealt with the cult. She snapped a picture of the summoning circle on her phone to compare to the previous one. There was clearly a similarity in how they’d been drawn for the Cupcake Demon to appear both times, by apparent mistake.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed we didn’t get whatever violent monster these morons were trying to call up,” Harry grumbled, cinching the last zip-tie, “But how does he imagine we’re going to stop cults from summoning him?”

“No idea,” Jesse replied. “Let’s hope it never comes up.”

\---

As luck or maybe fate would have it, it came up. And not really in the way either the Wells duo or the Cupcake Demon expected - see, Harry and Jesse did figure out the symbols which had led both cults astray. The unexpected part was that the next person to use them was Harry.

Things went down like this: Harry and Jesse had been on the trail of a serial killer whose preferred method of murder was _death by demon_. The killer would sneak into the victims’ homes while they were gone, ambush them, and use their blood to summon a dark creature to do the rest.

Harry was operating alone. Jesse - determined to finish college through online programs - was camped out in the local library to take her midterms. Her phone was off.

Harry had spent the afternoon researching and had identified the next potential victim, a woman who lived a few miles away from the previous target. Impatient to solve the case and stop the killings, Harry had broken into her house himself without waiting for backup from Jesse. The good news was that the victim hadn't yet returned from work. The bad news was that there wasn't just one serial killer - there were two of them - and they were already there, in hiding. The second one got the jump on Harry during their confrontation, and he went down.

When Harry came to, he was sprawled on the hardwood floor in the center of a summoning circle drawn with blood - his own blood, judging by the pain in his arms and the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him as soon as he moved.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said a man’s voice from nearby. There were footsteps. “You’re just in time, we’re about to complete the ritual.” 

“It’s always better when they’re able to see it,” agreed a woman’s voice, and she knelt to place a candle at the edge of the circle. “Able to scream. You might not have been our first choice, but our benefactor needs feeding.”

Harry struggled to focus in the flickering light. The woman looked familiar. After a few muzzy seconds he placed her from an old newspaper clipping of the killer’s presumed first victim. Not such a victim, it seemed.

He groaned and tried to tell his limbs to move, to stand, to fight. It was a losing battle. His nose was full of the thick smell of copper. Weakly, he turned his head to examine the summoning circle. It was real, like the others they’d seen in the houses of previous victims. Those sigils would summon a bona fide demon alright - a nasty one, based on the previous crime scenes.

Except… 

A crazy idea took hold in Harry’s mind. He waited until the footsteps were behind him, then used his blood-wet fingers to scrawl a few additional symbols on the floor. 

“We summon thee! _Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!_ ” chanted the man and woman. “Come see the offering we have made for you!”

The chanting grew louder and louder and Harry tried to stay conscious. A wind picked up, roaring in the confines of the room. The circle of blood flashed bright and a pair of shiny couture sneakers filled up his field of vision.

“You’re not--” said the woman’s voice.

“ _No!_ ” said the man, and there was a thump as they both were blown backwards by a demonic force.

“What the hell,” said a new voice. It was flat, and irritated, and to Harry’s immense relief, very familiar. “Can’t even go out for a night on the town...” 

The expensive sneakers turned about to face Harry. 

“You! You’re that hunter.” The Cupcake Demon crouched down and rolled Harry onto his back. His round face was just as sweet-looking as Harry remembered, his glossy hair curling about his shoulders. He had on a stylish leather jacket in black, red, and gold to match the sneakers. He looked Harry over, then spied the bloody sigils near his hand. “Gonna guess those weren’t in the original playbook for dumb and dumber over there. You summoned me. On purpose. No one’s ever done that. Why would _you_ summon me?”

Harry inhaled and forced his vocal chords to cooperate. “I was hoping you'd have cupcakes,” he rasped. He wasn’t foolish enough to think Cisco was harmless, but he’d been unusually nonviolent for a demon during the previous times Harry had encountered him, and that was definitely better than whatever brutal creature the serial killers had been summoning.

The demon laughed. “Ha! The man’s got jokes. I like it. What are you going to do now, then?”

Harry blinked slowly. The edges of his vision began to darken. “Dunno.”

“Hey,” the demon snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “Where’s your kid.”

“Jesse,” Harry said sleepily. He wouldn’t tell the demon where she was. No way.

“Good. Where is she?”

“Not… telling…”

Harry sank into blackness. The last thing he heard was the Cupcake Demon’s exasperated sigh.

\---

Harry awoke to the tired beeping of a heart rate monitor. He was, against all odds, in a hospital. He floated in a haze of vague awareness for a few minutes, or maybe an hour. It was hard to tell. 

When his recent memories came back his eyes flew open and the beeping of the monitor jumped to a staccato sprint. He tried to sit up with a gasp. 

“Calm down!” A hand pressed him back into the engulfing softness of the pillow. He was weak as a kitten, and couldn’t resist the push. A familiar face came into focus beside him. 

It was the Cupcake Demon.

Harry recoiled back as far as the hospital bed would let him. “ _Christo_ ,” he hissed.

The Cupcake Demon winced badly, his handsome face screwed up in discomfort. “What the fuck? Chill, okay!” He pulled his hand away and held it up placatingly.

“Get away from me,” Harry croaked. “ _Christo_.”

The demon grimaced but seemed more prepared for the holy word this time. “Rich welcome from the guy who summoned me in the first place.”

“Why are you still here?” Harry asked, buying time, knowing that the demon seemed to like talking. He wished he had his guns, his knives, his holy water, salt, _something_. There was no way he could complete a Latin exorcism with the demon so close and unrestrained. He took quick stock of himself - his forearms were heavily bandaged, and an IV line ran from the crook of his elbow. He felt muzzy and light-headed. He would be useless in a hand-to-hand fight.

“Gee, I dunno, because I _saved your life_? I was curious whether you’d pull through. You needed one hell of a transfusion, man.” The demon tilted his head, considering Harry. “You’re a tough piece of beef jerky, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked. If the demon was still around - if he’d saved Harry’s life - then he wanted something. He expected the demon to launch into a speech about a deal, or maybe that Harry already owed him. That some dark magics were at work and the Harry would pay his due. 

But instead, the Cupcake Demon sighed. “Nothing. I told you, I don’t want to be bothered.” He tossed an object onto Harry’s lap - he recognized it as his most recent burner cell phone. “There’s a lot of missed calls on that. Unknown number, guessing it’s your daughter. Anyway, see ya.” The demon stood.

“Wait,” Harry said, clutching the phone. “What’s your name?” With a name, he could research. With a name, he could stop thinking of this guy as the _Cupcake Demon_. (For the love of God, please.)

The demon considered him, an odd expression on his face. “Francisco Ramon,” he said after a moment. “Cisco.”

“You’re named after Saint Francis?” Harry couldn’t help but be incredulous. 

“Trust me, no one appreciates the irony more than me,” Cisco replied wryly. “Now, out of courtesy I think I deserve your name in return.”

“Harrison Wells,” Harry replied after a moment.

“Hmm. Nice to meet you, _Harry_ ,” The demon grinned. And then in an instant he was gone, as quickly as though he was never there to begin with.

Harry slumped back against the hospital linens and flipped open the burner phone. Jess picked up in the middle of the first ring.

“Dad! Where are you? Are you okay?!!”

“I’m fine, Quick. Local hospital I think.” He squinted out the window of the private room, trying to see a familiar landmark.

“Jesus, I take _one_ midterm. Stay put Dad, I’m on my way. It’s probably the Sisters of Mercy Hospital in Steadford. This podunk town is too small to have its own hospital.” There were rustling noises as Jesse rushed to depart.

She arrived twenty minutes later, out of breath and slightly wild-eyed. She strode over and wrapped him up in a hug.

“Hey, Quick,” Harry said, hugging her back carefully with his bandaged arms. 

“You scared the shit outta me, Dad!” Jesse said, poking his shoulder.

“Ow,” Harry complained.

“Yeah, ow,” Jesse said fiercely. “That’s what you get for leaving me out of the loop. How did you get out? I heard the news on the way here that the police have the serial killer in custody.”

“Killers. There were two of them.” Harry corrected. He continued dryly, “I escaped by genius, cunning, and a deliberate run-in with our favorite mystery demon.”

Jesse perked up. “The Cupcake Demon? Tell me everything.”

Harry grinned, knowing he’d successfully distracted her from her ire for the moment. 

“Well for a start, his name is Cisco Ramon...”

\---

The emptiness of the long, open roads in the Midwest left too much time to think. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Cisco Ramon.

Why had the demon taken Harry to a hospital? Why hadn’t he exacted a deal out of it? Was there some trick that Harry should be expecting? Some dark magic he’d hidden?

Even the grumbling engine of the Torino wasn’t as comforting as usual. Jesse slept in the passenger seat with her head resting against a balled-up sweatshirt on the window. Harry had almost left her alone in the world, all because he’d gone into a situation without backup. It had been stupid, and rash, and he needed to be more careful. Harry chose job leads that sounded non-demonic for their next several weeks. Spirits, hauntings, and hoodoo were comforting in their normalcy.

He and Jesse followed reports of a violent haunting to Monroe, Wisconsin. 

When they got to investigating, however, they discovered that the killings had already stopped. They followed leads on the identity of the malevolent spirit and landed on a deacon from the early 1900s. When they went to find his grave, they found it freshly dug-up in Greenwood Cemetery. 

Someone had gotten there before them.

“Another hunter got the jump on us?” Jesse suggested, toeing the newly turned earth once more covering the deacon’s coffin. The cemetery groundskeeper had told them that when he’d discovered the open grave, the body inside had been _“burned, of all the disgraceful things to do to a man laid to rest-!_ ”. 

“Probably,” Harry replied, though he couldn’t think which hunter could be passing through here.

They stopped at a pub called _Sinner’s_ on their way out of town to grab a bite. The decor was a love song to an old-style saloon, mixed with more modern memorabilia. A taxidermied stag head graced one wall. Another held a large stop sign that had been spray painted to say ‘ _STOP, collaborate and listen!’_. It was an eclectic, welcoming space.

Jesse nabbed a table in a corner with a view of all the exits. Harry ordered coffee and burgers and was killing time by the pick-up counter when he heard the sound of a familiar voice.

“Yeah, I’m almost finished debugging,” Cisco Ramon was saying from a seat by the windowsill. His back was to Harry. He had earbuds in, and a sleek laptop open on the table, typing quickly while he chatted with someone on the phone. “...There were some infinite redirects in a couple of user decision pathways. ...I know, right? Yeah, so I’m almost done with fixing it. I’ll send the final version end of today. It’s not pretty yet but we can fix that on the front end later. Yeah. Mm-hm. Sounds good.”

Harry crept slowly closer and peered over the demon’s shoulder. Lines of code filled the screen. Harry rifled through what he used to know about programming before his life went sideways more than a decade ago.

“That’s an elegant solution,” Harry said, right next to Cisco’s ear.

Cisco let out a small shriek and flailed, yanking his earbuds out and skittering sideways in his seat against the window. A few nearby patrons glanced up at the disruption. The demon looked startled. Scared, even. It put Harry off balance and he stood up, hands held placatingly. 

“Just a comment, Ramon.”

“Harry!? What are you doing here?” Cisco hissed, rubbing his sternum like he was trying to calm a racing heart. Which was absurd - demons didn’t get frights or heart palpitations.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry replied. He slid into the empty seat across from Cisco and stared at him like a scientist with a fascinating specimen.

“I’m working,” Cisco huffed, pointing at his laptop. “Or at least I was.” He drew sarcasm around himself like a protective blanket.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Demonic web apps? That’s a new scheme from Hell I haven’t seen.”

“It’s not for - _Hell_ ,” Cisco rolled his eyes, lowering his voice on the last word. “It’s my day job. Anytime job. Whatever. Now what are you doing here? What do you want?” His eyes darted around the diner and spotted Jesse across the room, who was buried in her phone and hadn’t noticed the commotion.

“Just passing through,” Harry said. He tilted his head as an idea occurred to him. “We were looking into a haunting. Someone else got there first. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Why would I bother interfering with a haunting?” Cisco said with vehemence. A little too much, Harry thought.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I was only going to ask if you’d seen another hunter, but now you’ve got me curious if you were involved somehow,” He laced his fingers and stared at Cisco over the top of them. “I’m also not sure why a demon bothers with programming. That’s a fascinating question too.”

“I told you before,” Cisco said, crossing his arms. “I keep a low profile. You know, baking cupcakes. Coding on commission. A life.”

“Why does a demon need a life? All your kind care about is pain and chaos.”

“I’m here for a burger and a chill place to code, not to argue about why I deserve to exist with some asshole hunter,” Cisco snapped. His eyes flashed briefly to liquid black and the hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up.

“Fine,” Harry said, keeping a grip on his cool demeanor. “The haunting, then. Why intervene?”

“Hauntings bring hunters, or attract other demons,” Cisco said, apparently not seeing the use of denying it. “This town is nice and quiet, and I like it that way. There’s a nice park, a dozen churches I’ve never been to, a real taqueria run by a family who moved here from San Diego, and an Irish pub called _Flanagan’s Shenanigans_. You can’t go wrong.”

“How long have you been here?” Harry wondered. He’d heard of demons settling into an area, but not usually for more time than it took to start causing mayhem.

“A while,” Cisco replied. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed. “I googled you, you know. Promising tech start-up in the early 2000’s. Shame you had to go and ruin it by murdering your wife.”

“I didn’t kill my wife,” Harry hissed, put on the defensive himself.

“Hm,” Cisco said. “But that the police don’t believe in the supernatural. They must have been horrified by you. Such a savage killing.”

Harry seized the salt shaker from the table and unscrewed the lid threateningly. “You want to make a scene? Because this is how you make a scene.”

Cisco pursed his lips. “Doesn’t feel that great when people assume the worst about you, does it?”

Harry ground his teeth and glared before finally putting the salt shaker aside. “No.”

“Number twenty-six?” The call came from the diner’s pick-up counter. “Number twenty six.”

“I think that’s you,” Cisco said. Now that Harry wasn’t threatening him with salt, he wore a rather peculiar expression. He inhaled and went back to tapping at his computer. “There’s another chair, or whatever.”

Harry squinted. “Are you inviting me to eat with you?”

“Whatever,” Cisco repeated, eyes on his screen. “Let’s just say I like you hunters where I can see you.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said, disbelieving. He got up to retrieve the plates from his order and swung by where Jesse was sitting. “Come on, Quick. It’s an old friend.” He jerked his chin towards the window where Cisco was hunched over his laptop. 

“No way,” Jesse said, shoving her phone in her pocket. “He’s not running for it? He didn’t do anything whacko?”

“Nope,” Harry said. “Same as before. I’m beginning to think it’s either the best long con I’ve ever seen, or he’s telling the truth about living the quiet life.”

“Let’s go find out,” Jesse said, getting up and seizing her plate from Harry’s hand.

Cisco looked up as they both sat down, eyes a bit round and very human, before he quickly resumed typing furiously on his laptop. Harry idly noticed the salt shaker was now nowhere to be found. Smart.

Jesse’s expression mirrored her father’s - wary, but intrigued to her very bones.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” grunted Cisco.

They ate lunch together. Talked a little. It was... normal, and that was the strangest thing about it. Harry discovered he and the demon had a mutual love of cinema (“But I can _not_ believe you haven’t seen the Princess Bride,” the demon scoffed, sounding truly offended). Jesse quizzed him on the coding work he was doing, ever sharp in learning about new things. Cisco showed her his screen and walked her through a few basic concepts, and even offered her a compliment on how fast she picked them up. 

Cisco disappeared when they got up to bus their plates. Harry and Jesse hit the road to the next town. 

They didn’t go back to Monroe, Wisconsin. 

Something told Harry that Cisco wouldn’t either.

\---

Sam and Dean Winchester were somewhat legendary on the hunter’s circuit. Alright, scratch that, _actually_ legendary. With their absurdly high supernatural body count, involvement in several near-apocalypses, and penchant for starting trouble, there was no other pair of hunters more renowned.

So when Harry punched the man hitting on his daughter at the bar, and shortly after recognized him, he had the distinct pleasure of knowing he’d given a legend a black eye.

“I was just talking to her!” Dean protested, clutching his eye. “Come on, man!”

“He really was just talking,” said Sam. He stood back and didn’t seem that upset on his brother’s behalf. Harry was relieved on that count - he wasn’t eager to tussle with the younger Winchester’s superior height and muscle mass.

“Well, _I_ was flirting,” Jesse countered, unbothered. “You didn’t have to hit him, Dad.”

Harry gave his daughter a stern look that said they would _absolutely_ be talking about this later. They were at the bar to scope out some local deaths, but that didn’t mean his teenage daughter had to _flirt with older men_ to accomplish the task.

Dean finally got a good look at Harry through his un-punched eye. “Wells?!”

“Winchester,” Harry greeted. He shook out his hand, his knuckles smarting. The patrons around them who had turned to watch slowly went back to their business as it became clear the conflict wasn’t going to escalate to a full-on brawl. 

“Oh my god, you’re the Winchester brothers?” Jesse said, looking between them. “That is so cool! I’ve heard so much about you both. You’re the smart brawny one,” she pointed at Sam. “And you’re the clever dumbass one,” she pointed at Dean.

“Hey!” Dean objected, while Sam smirked at his expense.

“You here about the murders, too?” Jesse asked. “Nasty business.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied easily. “We’re thinking demon. There was sulphur on two of the scenes.”

“Sam,” Dean complained, clearly not enthusiastic about having company.

“What? We need more eyes on this case,” Sam retorted. His mouth quirked. “And we’re down one.”

Dean pulled a sour face at him. His eye was already swelling up.

“We were thinking witches,” Jesse said. “We found hex bags.”

“Jesse,” Harry complained, looking as sour as Dean.

“Demons _and_ witches?” Sam mused, ignoring Harry. “We’ve seen that before. Some witches get their power by praying to the forces of darkness.” 

“Symbiotic relationship,” nodded Jesse.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a whole boatload of fun,” Dean drawled.

“Well, then let’s get to it,” Harry said, resigned. As much as he hated to admit, Sam was right; in this kind of situation, more eyes were better.

\---

Their joint hunt lead them to another murder and a partial dead-end. After busting the coven’s home base, they discovered an unholy book that made them feel ill when they tried to open it. The cover was inscribed with Latin, which Sam translated for Dean. (Harry made a point of saying he and Jesse could already read it, and earned him a petulant glare).

“It says that only a ‘bound worshipper’ can open it, or a dark lord. That means either a witch or a demon,” Sam said. “This could be the key to understanding their pattern and saving the next victim.”

“Know any friendly neighborhood witches or dark lords we can ask?” Dean joked. “Because we’re fresh out.”

Harry and Jesse exchanged a look.

“You’re kidding,” Dean said flatly. “You have a friendly neighborhood witch?”

“Demon,” Harry conceded. “He won’t like being summoned.”

“Who cares about demon feelings,” Dean retorted, snapping his fingers. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Harry knew Cisco wanted to keep a low profile. He knew that summoning Cisco while in the presence of two legendary hunters would very much _not_ be ‘keeping a low profile’. But some of the witches’ victims had been children, and it was Harry’s job to stop the slaughter.

“I need your word that you won’t hurt him,” Harry said finally.

“We won’t,” Sam promised. “If he’s… friendly, like you said.”

“If he keeps his demon-y self to himself, then yeah,” Dean agreed, after Sam elbowed him. “If he makes trouble… no promises.”

Harry considered, then moved ahead with drawing the summoning circle in spray paint. He added Cisco’s sigils from memory, repurposed some of the coven’s candles, and finished the ensemble with a few drops of his own blood. While Harry worked, Dean took out a cannister of salt and began to make a confining ring around the whole affair.

“We don’t need that,” Harry said.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean replied, pouring more salt. “Non-negotiable. I don’t care how chummy your wannabe-goth ass is with this demon.”

Harry ground his teeth, but didn’t argue. He could always scuff the line if he needed to give Cisco an escape route. When everything was done, he stood back and briefly consulted his phone for the Latin needed for a demon summoning, having never used it before himself. 

By the second phrase of the chant, a wind had picked up in the room and the lights began to flicker. Sam and Dean raised their weapons out of habit and nerves, ready for anything. Harry finished his incantation. The wind died. The lights calmed down.

Cisco appeared in the middle of the circle, and Harry’s mouth fell open.

The demon was naked as the day he was born, dripping wet, with his head tipped back and his hands in his hair as though he’d just finished rinsing it out in the shower. His skin glistened with jewel-like water droplets that shimmered in the candlelight. 

Harry was so stunned, he was almost glad when Cisco shattered the seductive image by shrieking loudly and covering himself with his hands.

“Harry?!” Cisco yelled shrilly. “What the actual fuck?!” 

Guilt stabbed at Harry’s chest at the demon’s obvious mortification. He quickly stripped off his hoodie and tossed it into the circle, his cheeks pink. Sam and Dean looked on incredulously, while Jesse had her hand clapped over her mouth to avoid laughing.

Cisco snatched up the hoodie and wrapped himself tightly in it. Due to their height difference, the hoodie was just long enough to preserve Cisco’s modesty.

“You’re the worst and I hate you,” Cisco snarled, his eyes bleeding to black. “Why the fuck are you summoning me again?”

Sam and Dean raised their weapons at the display.

“Cool it,” Harry hissed at them. 

Cisco followed his gaze. “And who are they?!” He wrapped his arms around himself defensively, embarrassed twice-over that there were more witnesses.

“No one of importance,” Harry said quickly, though he was taken aback. If Cisco didn’t recognize the Winchester brothers, he really was out of the loop. Well, Harry wasn’t going to tell him. Sam and Dean shared disbelieving expressions, echoing Harry’s thoughts.

“They look like hunters,” Cisco said, baring his teeth. The effect wasn’t very threatening when paired with his damp hoodie and bare feet. 

“We are hunters,” confirmed Dean with a sardonic grin, cheerful in the face of the demon’s discomfort. “But don’t worry, we’re the friendly kind today. Well, just this minute. By special request.”

“Not buying it,” Cisco replied. 

“I need a favor,” Harry interjected.

“Pretty sure you still owe _me_ ,” Cisco said snippily, turning back to him with a sour face. His hair dripped miserably on the floor.

“You sold your soul?” Sam asked Harry, alarmed.

“No,” Harry answered impatiently. “It’s not a contractual debt.” He looked Cisco in the eye. “Look. We need to open this book. Only a demon or a witch can. And we’re trying to save some people. Some of them are kids.”

“People die all the time,” Cisco scoffed.

“But sometimes, they don’t have to,” Harry replied. He held up the book and steadily held Cisco’s gaze. 

There was a charged moment between them. Then, the darkness slowly bled out of Cisco’s eyes, revealing his usual warm brown irises. “Fine,” he said shortly, and held out a grabby hand to take the book.

Harry walked into the summoning circle to give it to him. Dean began to lift his gun but Sam grabbed his wrist, jerking his chin at the way the hunter and demon stood comfortably close.

Cisco wiped his wet hands on the hoodie and accepted the book. “Nasty piece of work you got here.” He frowned at it, then dragged his thumb down the sigils on the spine. The marks glowed and the latch holding the book closed popped open. Cisco shrugged and held the open book out to Harry, who took it.

Harry cleared his throat. “Thanks. Sorry about-” He gestured to Cisco’s wet... well, everything. A small puddle of water had collected at the demon’s feet.

“Too late, I hate you forever,” Cisco replied. There was surprisingly little bite to the words. He tucked his sodden hair behind his ears.

“From a demon, that’s high esteem,” Harry replied with a slight smile.

“Are you guys really flirting right now?” Dean asked loudly. “Because this looks like flirting.”

“No,” Harry and Cisco said in unison, and with identical defiance. Harry’s cheeks went pink again.

“Something about the lady protesting too much, am I right?” Dean thwapped Sam on the arm with a grin. He turned back to Harry. “Come on, we need to follow this lead. Flirt with hellspawn later.”

Dean was right, Harry thought. Well, about chasing the lead. The flirting thing was not a thing. Harry scuffed the salt line by his foot to break the trap holding Cisco in place.

Cisco didn’t disappear right away. He looked over at Sam, brusque and assessing. “You seem like an academic type. Got a pen?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Sam replied, confused.

“Give it,” Cisco put out a hand impatiently.

Nonplussed, Sam tossed him a pen. Cisco took the cap off with his teeth while he grabbed Harry’s hand and began to scrawl on his palm. The ballpoint tickled Harry’s skin. It was nearly as distracting as the demon’s warm hand cradling his own.

“What are you-?” Harry asked.

“My number,” Cisco said, recapping the pen and flinging it back towards Sam. Cisco poked Harry in the chest, eyes narrowed. “So you can _call_ me next time. Like a civilized person. Ain’t nobody got time for being kidnapped outta the shower, m-kay?” 

Harry stared at the 10 digits gracing his palm in black ink. “Okay.”

“Good. Also, you’re not getting this hoodie back. Later, assholes!” And with a mocking salute, Cisco disappeared.

There was a moment of processing from all those remaining in the room.

“...So you got a demon boyfriend now?” Dean quipped.

“No,” Harry said, very firmly.

“Uh-huh,” said Dean, sounding unconvinced. “Well don’t get too friendly. They can try to be human for a while, but their true nature always comes out in the end.”

Sam frowned at his brother, but didn’t argue.

Harry lasted for three full days after the job was successfully done before he texted Cisco. _ <This is Harry.> _

_ <i know> _ Cisco replied only a few minutes later. _ <you’re the only one who has this number> _

Harry wasn’t really sure what to say to that. _ <We got the demon and the witch. Thanks for your help.> _

_ <don’t mention it> _ Cisco sent back. _ <I mean really, don’t. it’ll hurt my demonic rep> _

_ <What demonic rep?> _ Harry replied, eyebrow raised. _ <I thought you were laying low.> _

Cisco’s answer was prompt _. <all the more reason to zip that lip, Harry> _

Harry snorted and shook his head. 

It was Cisco who reached out again several days later, recalling their talk about cinema in the Wisconsin diner. _ <so have you joined the modern era and watched the Princess Bride yet?> _

Then another time, _ <is there anything better than Roy Batty’s ‘tears in the rain’ speech in Blade Runner? I think no> _

And then, _ <Sharknado: brilliant or just plain amazing? discuss> _

And so on. Harry found himself responding - sometimes to incredulously agree, and sometimes to pick fights (which he thoroughly enjoyed). Supernatural and hunting topics almost never came up. Harry began looking forward to Cisco’s texts, despite himself.

Jesse teased him about the way he perked up when his phone pinged with a message alert.

“Aww, you have a friend!” she’d say. “I mean, he’s a demon, but it’s progress!”

\---

Cisco called Harry on a February night while they were camped out after a job in Macomb, Illinois.

“Hey, Harry.” The demon’s voice was weak and thready.

Harry sat up sharply from the motel bed. “Cisco. What’s wrong?” 

Jesse looked up from the room’s tiny coffee table, where she was researching correspondence Master’s programs on her laptop.

“M’ calling in one of those favors you owe me,” Cisco said. He sounded almost… drunk? Tired? Maybe concussed.

“What for?” Harry pressed.

Cisco sighed. “Mm.. Not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

Harry’s expression grew pinched. “Okay then, Dorothy, what’s the problem?”

There was a hiccup of a laugh on the line. “I mean - Harry, I’m literally not in Kansas anymore.”

“Okay, then where are you?” Harry clung to his patience with limited success. He would have chalked this up to a joke except that Cisco really didn’t sound alright.

“Bunch a’ dweebs summoned me to a crummy old church,” Cisco said. “Abandoned. The consecrated ground hasn’t lost the kick, though. Can’t leave. Stupid trap.”

“Okay, _where_?” Harry snapped. He stood up to pace. Jesse quietly began packing her things.

“Chill, man, ‘m sending you my GPS location,” Cisco replied. “Come ‘n get me, okay? I’m just gonna... take a nap.”

Harry’s phone chimed with a text using the “share location” feature. He glanced at it and noticed it was a wide circle on a town instead of a specific pin drop. “Cisco,” Harry said. “The signal’s not good enough to pinpoint you.” There was no reply. “Cisco?!” 

Still nothing. Worried and irritated, Harry left the call connected and put in his earbuds so he would hear if Cisco started speaking again.

“Where to?” Jesse asked from where she was zipping up her duffle bag.

“Independence, Iowa.” Harry said, quickly packing up his own things. “It’s only three hours away.”

There were two abandoned churches in the outskirts of Independence, Iowa, within a half mile of each other. Harry and Jesse split the difference and each headed to one, eager to find Cisco as quickly as possible.

It was Harry who found him. Illuminated by the bright beam of Harry’s flashlight, Cisco lay sprawled on the stone floor of the tiny, crumbling church, right in the middle of a spray-painted devil’s trap. There was no one else there - the people who had summoned him must have fled, or else planned to come back later.

Harry rushed to Cisco’s side and tried to rouse him. A cursory check showed Cisco had no major wounds or other significant physical ills. Relief washed over Harry - Cisco would hopefully be fine once he was off consecrated ground.

The demon’s eyes opened groggily. They were black as pitch and Harry ruthlessly suppressed the instinctive fear he felt every time he saw them.

“Harry,” Cisco mumbled. “You’re late.” 

With his panic subsiding, Harry tried to think of something that would make Cisco laugh. “A wizard is never late,” he retorted. “Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Cisco cracked a grin. “Oh my god. Yer a wizard, Harry.” The demon let himself be pulled to sit upright, but couldn’t make it to his feet. His eyes remained black. His hands were cold and his cheeks pallid. 

“I think you’re mixing your references,” Harry replied. He eyed Cisco’s weak posture then slung one of the demon’s arms over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you up.” 

He heaved Cisco off the floor, but the demon swayed like a drunk and couldn’t support his weight. Harry swore and lowered him back down. He chewed his tongue, then used a stone to scratch at a painted line in the devil’s trap with a stone until it was broken. 

“Can you make it back to wherever you got yanked from?”

Cisco frowned and closed his eyes. Nothing happened. “Nah,” he sighed. He pouted a little and sagged into Harry’s embrace. “Don’t have the juice.”

“Well, we can’t just leave you here,” Harry said. He braced himself and hefted the demon into his arms, bridal-style.

“Oooh, save me, Superman,” Cisco teased, still with that weak, sleepy tone. He wound his arms around Harry’s neck and leaned tiredly against his shoulder.

“Hold tight, Lois,” Harry replied as he walked carefully out of the church.

Cisco was quiet for a moment. Harry half-wondered if he’d gone back into his stupor. But then he murmured, “You’re a pretty shitty hunter, you know that?” His mouth was close to Harry’s ear and the puff of breath tickled.

Harry scoffed. “Incorrect. I do my job. You, however, are a pretty shitty demon. Not that I’m complaining - by all means, continue with the complete lack of death and destruction.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Cisco sighed.

They emerged from the church to find Jesse pulling up in the Torino. She popped out of the driver-side door. “He okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Just outta demon mojo. Needs a nap somewhere not holy or blessed.”

“Well most motels definitely qualify for that,” Jesse replied wryly.

They bundled Cisco into the car. The Torino was only a two-seater, but it had a bench-style front seat, and Cisco fit well enough squished between them.

“You’re _both_ terrible hunters,” Cisco amended as they manhandled him into a comfortable slouch. The demon stole Harry’s spare jacket from the seat and pulled it clumsily over himself like a blanket.

“The worst,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

Cisco passed out with his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry cranked the car’s heat up, but the warmth he felt wasn’t entirely from the air vents. 

Jesse looked at him sidelong. “So… we’ve just kinda full-on adopted him. A demon.”

“I owed him a debt,” Harry reminded her. Cisco snored quietly and snuggled into Harry’s side. Harry moved minutely so that Cisco’s cheek wouldn’t slide off his shoulder.

“I think we can both admit it’s more than that,” Jesse said pointedly, glancing over. “I mean, I like him. I can’t help it. He’s likeable. And unless he’s murdering people in his spare time and keeping it a secret, he actually seems pretty chill. You know, for a tortured soul from Hell.”

“It’s been useful having a demon who’s willing to help us,” Harry agrees.

“Oh, cut the crap, Dad.” Jesse rolled her eyes. “You guys text _constantly_. You like him too.”

Harry blushed and decided not to dignify that with a response.

“I’m just saying,” Jesse replied, resting her head against the passenger window. “It’s like… okay. That you found someone to connect with. People don’t understand what we do. We’re always moving around. It’s not like we can ever just get to know people the normal way.”

Harry focused ahead on the long, empty road. Jesse sounded... sad.

He turned the thought over in his head a few times before voicing it. “I know you never chose this life. I just dragged you along with me to keep you safe. But you’re older now, and if you want to stop and settle down somewhere...”

“No!” Jesse straightened up again. “Dad, that’s not what I meant. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave-”

“I’d never do that-” Harry interrupted fiercely.

“Good!” Jesse interrupted him right back. “Dad, all I mean is… I get it. And it’s okay.” She was quiet for a moment. “And okay, maybe it would be cool to stick around somewhere to do a Master’s program for a year or two. But not forever! I don’t want to leave you without back-up for too long. You take stupid risks when you’re by yourself.”

Harry couldn’t deny it. “Did you find a program you’re interested in?” He asked instead.

Jesse perked up. “A few, actually. All the online and correspondence programs were questionable at best, but I started looking into a few smaller campuses. The application cycle’s not until the fall, and I’ll have to ace my finals-”

And then she was off, chattering excitedly about what she might study and the pros and cons of different programs, from biochem to theoretical physics. A tension that Harry hadn’t even noticed before began to lift from Jesse’s shoulders and diminished more and more the longer she talked.

Harry smiled, bittersweet, and tried not to envision what it would be like taking these long drives alone. 


End file.
